Finding Master Right(23)
She sputtered for a moment. “But . . . but what if I walk into something?”
“You have to keep an eye on what’s happening around you, but you don’t have to rubberneck to do that. I’ll make sure you don’t bump into anything. It’s a Dom’s job to protect his sub. She’s his greatest treasure, remember.”
“The greatest treasure part sounds pretty good.”
He laughed. “So you just want to be spoiled without giving your Dom anything in return?”
She shrugged. “When you say it like that . . .”
Still laughing, he turned toward the hallway and said, “Come on, princess. Let’s see how brave you really are.”
With a sigh, she followed behind him, keeping her gaze on the floor, trusting him to steer her around obstacles and stairwells. They padded down the corridor then he stopped in front of a door.
Purposefully, she bumped into his back, just to make a point.
He turned, and she could feel the heat of his glare, even as she stared at the floor. “You can lift your head, Trouble.”
She did and felt some satisfaction in that. God, she really was trouble. Maybe submission wasn’t her thing after all.
When she looked up at his face, his sinister expression made her wither. At the same time, a tingling rushed to her pussy. She clenched her thighs together, hoping for a miniorgasm. When he looked at her like that—as if she were the entire focus of his attention, as if he not only owned her but desired her—something switched on inside her. And it wasn’t just her libido. It was as if she suddenly cared about everything and anything he thought, felt, wanted, needed. She was not only in tune but desperate to please him. There was also a hopeless affection growing deep down, where she couldn’t seem to uproot it. But, why? They weren’t even together. Why did this weird switch in her brain flip only for him? More importantly, how could she get it to turn off so she could keep some control? Right now, it felt like it was slowly slipping through her fingers.
After he opened the door and flipped on a light, he crooked a finger at her.
She paused, unable to make her body follow him. She’d been so confident a moment ago. Now, her courage had abandoned her.
His brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m scared,” she blurted.
He turned to face her fully, his eyes a mixture of amusement and concern. “Now you’re scared? What are you afraid of? I promise there are no rats or skeletons in there.”
She swallowed hard. “I’m scared of the way you make me feel.” Why was she telling him this?
He took a step closer, so close she could feel the heat from his body against hers. “And how do I make you feel?”
“Like I’m losing control.” It was barely a whisper, but she knew he’d heard. She stared at his chest, avoiding the disappointment probably written on his face.
“That’s the point.”
“I don’t like it.”
“No.” He put his finger under her chin to tilt her head up, then gazed into her eyes. “You love it.”
Chapter 8
If the glare had been meant to turn him to stone, her superpower only worked on his dick. At this point, keeping her training impersonal was an act. She’d completely charmed him.
How many times had he played with women at clubs and walked away without it becoming sexual? He couldn’t guess. But with Kate, he had to keep pushing away thoughts of how good she felt beneath him and how she was his, even though she tried to fight it. Or the helpless way she moaned when she came. How soft her skin was . . .
“You think I love losing control?” Her brow had lowered in a way that would have made a lesser man quail. Luckily for her, he knew who was in charge.
“Yes.”
“Well, I guess it doesn’t take a genius to figure that out if I’m here to become more submissive.”
“No, I meant that you love losing control to me, specifically.” He turned and walked into his dungeon, counting on her to follow out of spite now. Her courage was unlikely to fail her if she wanted to get the last word.
“Shit.”
She’d followed him in, but whatever she was going to say was interrupted when she caught sight of the room.
“What?”
“I didn’t expect it to be this . . .”
“This, what?”
“I don’t know. Classy? I’ve only ever heard about grungy basement dungeons—like the public one Janine goes to.”
He smiled. “Well, usually people’s private dungeons reflect their personal tastes. I don’t have fantasies about taking my subs in back alleyways or in cold warehouses. The one in town is designed for people who want their BDSM raw and edgy. Everything here was designed to please myself.”
“It actually looks like you had this place professionally decorated.” She ran her fingers over the fabric that swagged over the large four poster bed.
“Thank you.”
“Did you do it all yourself?”
“Yes. I was an artist.”
Her mouth quirked. “Was? You’re not anymore?”
Banner tried to think of the last time he’d picked up a pencil or paintbrush, but for the past six months the closest he’d come was doodling on the minutes at business meetings. He had a loft for one passion and a basement dungeon for the other. Meanwhile, although most people would consider them his hobbies, they were more real and important to him than what he did at the office every day. That was mostly a paycheck and a way to keep his family from starving.
“So where are all of the whips and chains and stuff? I mean, this looks mostly like a vanilla bedroom, albeit with some extra furniture.”
“Well, you know what that padded coffee table can be used for now.”
Her cheeks turned pink, and he thought of how obedient she’d been for him by the end of his inspection. Not tapping into that today was an exquisite kind of torture. All of the wasted potential frustrated a deep part of him. This cat-and-mouse situation they had going on couldn’t continue. He couldn’t keep training a woman he liked this much while knowing she was going to someone else. If Ambrose or Konstantin took her on he might be able to handle it. But seeing her collared to one of his best friends would be rough too. He kept waiting for her laugh to be annoying, or for her to chew with her mouth open, or anything he could cling to that would make her less desirable. Instead, her stubbornness and coltish awkwardness were endearing. Maybe they’d wear on him with time.
“The table also converts.” He slid a drawer out of the side to show her it was a padded place to kneel, which worked well as a spanking bench. The decorative loops on either side of the table were at the right height and position to attach cuffs in case his guest was reluctant about being punished.
She stared at the thing wide-eyed, as though it had turned into a venomous snake. Considering how recently she’d been disciplined, he could understand her reaction.
“The rest of the room has other features that make this a functional dungeon. And because I redid this entire room, it’s quite soundproof when the door’s closed.”
“You could . . . lock a girl up down here, and no one would know.” She shivered, then jumped as he traced a path up the back of her neck, from the collar of her T-shirt into her hair. Her eyes closed, and her lips parted slightly.
“I only let good girls who want to play with me in here.”
Her lips twisted in a wry smile. “Oh, and am I part of that exclusive club now?”
“Yes. It’s a very small club. You’ll have to fill all of the positions at the moment.” There were several positions he could think of off the top of his head that he’d like to fill her in.
The words he left unsaid seemed apparent to her. She was looking up at him, her eyes docile, the softness of her mouth doing crazy things to his imagination.
He kissed her, unable to resist the temptation, but made it more of a tease than a kiss—over before it had begun, and featherlight.
As he stepped back, she followed, looking for more. She was the one who wanted to keep her clothes on. She didn’t want sex, or so she insisted. There was no way in hell he was initiating anything.
His dick was disgusted with him for being a gentleman.
“So, what makes you think that I love losing control, especially to you?” The tilt of her head and the tone challenged him for dominance. Always testing.
“It’s all in the quality of your screams when you come for me, and the fact that you called me Master. Twice.”
Her face crimson, she sputtered, hunting for words. The right ones came to her, eventually. “I’ll admit that you’re good in bed, but that doesn’t mean I love losing control to you. The words are just words. They slipped out. It happens. You’re just lucky I didn’t accidentally call you William or Rob instead.”
“So you always come that hard?”
She frowned. “I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”
“In other words, no.”
“You can choose to believe what you want, but I’m not feeding your ego anymore today.” She pursed her lips. If someone Googled the word “arrogant,” there’d be a picture of Kate making that face.
Sassy little bitch.
A wave of sexual aggression took him by surprise, but he caught himself before he even twitched a finger. He wanted to make her scream for mercy, beg for cock. He wanted to do any number of things she wasn’t ready for yet.